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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229387">there is a storm coming and you stand there and let it soak you till your bones are wet just so you can feel something</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffslynch/pseuds/ffslynch'>ffslynch</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Angst Week 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Airports, Angst, Gen, Goodbyes, Graduation, Kuroo Tetsurou is a Mess, M/M, Minor Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:21:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,649</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27229387</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ffslynch/pseuds/ffslynch</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>By the time he is 21, Kuroo has perfect the art of saying goodbye. It doesn't make it any easier. </p><p> </p><p>(Haikyuu Angst Week 2020 day 7 - goodbyes)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Kozume Kenma &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou, Kuroo Tetsurou &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou's Father, Kuroo Tetsurou &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou's Grandfather, Kuroo Tetsurou &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou's Grandmother, Kuroo Tetsurou &amp; Kuroo Tetsurou's Mother, Kuroo Tetsurou &amp; Nekomata Yasufumi, Kuroo Tetsurou &amp; the Kozume family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Angst Week 2020 [7]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1970500</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Haikyuu Angst Week 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>there is a storm coming and you stand there and let it soak you till your bones are wet just so you can feel something</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This piece is the first part of my study series on Kuroo's character, and how he deals with growing up. This is the flame that ignites all identity crisis, I guess.</p><p>Once again, I can not thank <a href="https://twitter.com/tworiceballs">Belle</a> enough for helping me out with the concept and which way would be better to structure the fic in order to reach the specific goals I had for this. She is a godsend, and an amazing writer. Make sure to give her a follow and check out her threads on twitter!</p><p>Also, a huge thank you to <a href="https://twitter.com/_no0emiie">Noémie</a> and <a href="https://twitter.com/atsumuluvr69">Jo</a> for beta reading this for me! Make sure to check their own writing, because they are both incredible writers.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>There are a few things in which Kuroo Tetsurou excels on — the best pot of Jasmine tea, the art of riling people up, his time-difference attack, having the messiest hair in Tokyo and still pulling it off, and the list goes on.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>But, above anything else, Kuroo is somewhat of an expert at saying ‘goodbye’. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He has been doing it for so long and so often it feels like his second nature. He knows the feeling of being left behind by heart, trained his eye to see the end of every relationship coming from a mile away. It comes to him in the very beginning of his youth, and the act itself is a weight that pins him down, keeping him grounded. He repeats, again and again, throughout his life, finding himself a little bit more alone, in one way or another. It never gets easier to carry. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first time Kuroo says goodbye, he barely understands what is exactly  happening, or why his family’s eyes glisten when they ask him to do so. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is only 5, waving his little hand with chunky fingers as he watched his mother leave  to ‘make a visit to the hospital’. Kuroo doesn’t like it when she visits the hospital,  especially when it was happening more and more frequently, and she always takes longer to come back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He remembers his grandmother running her hand through his hair, calling him ‘Tetsu-kun’ and pulling him along away from his toys. ‘It’s time to say goodbye to mama’, she tells him, and even though he is too young to understand, a cold feeling of discomfort settles in his stomach. He hates when his mother leaves. It doesn’t get any better when he sees her, sitting in a chair near the door with her head pressed against his father’s stomach, who is standing right beside her as always. Her hair is messily tied behind her head, it’s getting very thin, with some parts barely covering her head. Her skin is pale and ashy, and her cheeks have sunken into her face. Sometimes Kuroo is afraid that one day he will look at her and see the sun streaming in from the windows going right through her. Not that it wouldn’t be cool to have a mum with superpowers like invisibility, but she looks more like a ghost than a hero, and that’s scary. He still doesn’t know that there are things far more scarier than ghost stories. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She looks up and smiles at him, in the tired way she always does before and after being at the hospital. She never looks quite better or healthy, never as red-faced as his grandma or plump like the woman that works at the grocery store near their house. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hi love,” she calls out to him, almost a whisper. “You came to say goodbye?” Kuroo nods slowly, and his grandmother is about to set him on the floor near her when his mother straightens her back and raises her arms, indicating that he should be placed on her lap. His grandmother gives her a disapproving look that Kuroo doesn’t see, too busy reaching out for his mother. He likes being in her lap, he hasn’t sat therein a long time. His mother is stubborn and reaches for him, placing him slowly on top of her. She combs his messy hair with her fingers and kisses his temple. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I love you, Tetsurou.” She whispers, lips pressed against the top side of his head “Promise me you’ll never forget that, ok?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo nods, slightly confused as to why she feels the need to tell him that. But he does know, and he whispers back, because it’s true. She gives him a very soft smile, and he can see this glistening in her eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Ok” his father interrupts them, “We have to go. Mum, would you…” he says, leaving the rest of the sentence in the air. Regardless, Kuroo’s grandmother knows what he means or wants to say, because she is quick to come over and swiftly lift Kuroo away from his mother’s arms and tender love. His mother almost doesn’t let go, and when his grandma holds him facing away from the door, he can hear some sniffling. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>His father slowly helps  his mother to get up and leave the house. Every step takes ages to happen, and it seems to bring both of them pain. Later in life, Kuroo will remember this scene and wonder if the expression came from the act of walking or from the destiny that was waiting for them. Both of his grandparents go out on the porch, still holding him back, and they watch as his father slowly eases his mother into a taxi cab. She waves at him, with a face that confuses Kuroo — she is smiling, the same sweet and kind smile she always had, but it is so sad that it hurts to see. When the car disappears into the horizon, down the street, his grandparents hush him inside and leave him alone with his toys. Kuroo goes back to playing, entertained enough to not notice that as of that moment, he is the only person in the house not shedding tears.  When he goes to bed later that night, he thinks about which story he will tell his mother when she comes back from the hospital (a tradition they had created), and replays the image of his mother waving goodbye through the taxi window until he falls asleep.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That’s the last time Kuroo ever sees her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His dad dies of old age, many decades later, when Kuroo is already a formed man and full-grown adult. But truth be told, Kuroo said goodbye to him many years before his passing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was never the same after Kuroo’s mother’s death. A shadow of a man, even more the shadow of a father. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Work becomes his everything, he throws himself into it as if nothing else matters. Earlier shifts, extra hours. He is there, has a beating heart and functioning lungs. He can talk and listen, and he blinks so his eyes must work. He is perfectly able to walk on his own and solve any sort of logical and complex issue that is required of him during work. All facts and evidence point  to the fact that Kuroo’s father is very much alive and functioning. But this statement presented on paper doesn’t seem to hold itself up in reality at all. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no light in his eyes, no real sign that there is still a soul inside his body, still connected to this life on earth. And he never has energy for anyone, even less for Kuroo, who is still a needy child, that would grow into an active pre-teen, lacking praise and attention, and later on a teenager and young adult who got used to receiving none of those.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kuroo is around 14, there is a short period of time in which his father is more at home, when Kuroo has the opportunity to interact with him without seeing him through the lenses of a toddler. He can’t help but notice that sometimes, his father will turn his face when Kuroo starts speaking, ignoring him. His grandmother later tells him that it is because when Kuroo gets too excited and talks about the things he likes, he becomes very similar to his mother. It doesn’t make it hurt any less. He becomes quieter when his father is at home, talks less and stays in his room more, or simply escapes to Kenma’s house, where he never feels like a burden or a reminder of pain. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Almost a year later, on his birthday, Kuroo has the life changing realization that the man in front of him is a stranger. He doesn’t know who his father really is, what he likes, what he thinks about, who the man was that Kuroo’s mother once fell in love with. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>And his father doesn’t know anything about him either. They become foreigners to each other, bound by blood and grief, and that remains the only connection in their stranded relationship for the years to come. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When his dad passes away, years later, the sadness that comes with it is much more muted, it just makes Kuroo’s mind foggy instead of cracking with suffering. This is a relationship with a man that abandoned his son emotionally years ago, and Kuroo went through the five stages of grief many years before loading the casket down. It is what it is, there is no point in crying about it. His tears have dried long ago.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Kuroo graduates, he feels like a child all over again. He knows it’s immature, and a tad too sensitive, but he doesn’t want to leave Nekoma. It’s not that he isn’t excited about college and whatever the future holds for him, but he is simply not ready to let go yet. Nekoma makes him happy, really happy. It is his second home, and the team is his chosen family. He can’t imagine what it would be like to not wake up and pick up Kenma in front of  his house to take the train. To not stop by the convenience store to buy two cans of brewed coffee and one can of green tea each for Kai and Yaku before class. To not greet his teachers in the morning in the staff room when he goes to talk to the chemistry professor about the extra material he has been studying on the side. He can’t imagine a life where he doesn’t spend his afternoons in the gym, playing volleyball, surrounded by his friends. He can’t and he doesn’t want to. Kuroo doesn’t want to say goodbye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>So when the day of the graduation ceremony does come, he doesn’t actually leave the school, volunteering to help with cleaning and putting everything away  after the ceremony is done. His grandparents have already gone back home, tired and with painful joints. His father had been too busy with work, as usual, and the Kozume’s had left as well, but only after Kuroo promised to come over for dinner in the evening (Kenma had only slightly mocked him for his difficulty in letting go, and Kuroo appreciated him for that).</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is in the middle of mopping down the court floor, where the ceremony had been held, when he is interrupted by the sound of someone clearing their throat. He turns around to find Nekomata, standing a few feet away from him. He has changed from his formal suit into the same red tracksuit he always wore for practices, and Kuroo gulps knowing what that means. He is meeting with the future students that are applying for the team, to see their performance and which ones get to join or not. The new first years, Kuroo and his former classmates future substitutes. Kuroo shakes his head, trying not to think about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Still here, Kuroo?” Nekomata asks, voice strong and slightly raspy. Kuroo nods, quickly.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Helping out with cleaning, sir. Thought I’d stick around and do as much as I can, since it’s my last day here.”</span>
</p><p><span>“Ah, I see. You know, most of your peers probably left the school as soon as they could, I heard that  is the most common behaviour. After all, graduating is a very exciting event.”</span><span><br/>
</span> <span>“I’m aware, sir.” Kuroo says. “I guess this is just my way to say thank you to the school.” he explains.</span></p><p>
  <span>“Well, I think you’ve done enough, don’t you?” Nekomata points out, gesturing around the room. Everything is organized and perfectly clean. There is nothing else for Kuroo to do there. He has run out of excuses, and out of time. His stay at Nekoma is officially over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m going to miss this place,” Kuroo says, a sad chuckle leaving his lips. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, but this phase of your life is over, as good as it might have been. It’s time to move on.” Nekomata points out, as straightforward as ever.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know if I’m ready to do so,” Kuroo admits, biting his lip hesitantly. Nekomata only sighs, before patting him on the shoulder.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go home Kuroo. I have new students to train, and you have a future waiting for you.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo lets the words wash over him, like a wave of saltwater, soaking a body marked by open wounds. It hurts. Nekomata means well, he just wants Kuroo to move on, to accept the future. He is a brilliant student, and there is no doubt in the old man’s mind that he will achieve great things. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But everything Kuroo hears is dismissal, a form of rejection. It’s pushing him away. It’s telling him he is being an inconvenience, a burden, too attached, too emotional, too much. Unwanted. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo bows down, thanking Nekomata one last time for everything that the old man has ever done for him, before being waved off and leaving the school grounds. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He makes it all the way to the train station, and then to his own house, before breaking down behind the locked door. He cries for so long that even hours later, when he emerges from his bed, showers and drags himself to the Kozume’s place, Kenma still comments on how his eyes look a bit red and puffy.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been crying again, haven’t you, you big sap?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo swallows down the second wave of tears and forces out a laugh, eyes stuck on the video game characters on the screen.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut up and stop distracting me. I’m beating you on this tonight.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>If Kenma hears the slight crack on his voice, he doesn’t say anything. Maybe it’s better like this, if he asked Kuroo might not be able to keep it together, and no one else needs to know that not even his ex-coach wanted him around.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Life is changing, and the future comes whether you’re ready for it or not.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His grandfather passes when he is 19.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was a smart man, and Kuroo had much to thank him for. He was the one that brought him his first volleyball, and took him and Kenma to their first big games in different parts of Tokyo. He encouraged Kuroo to go for Nekoma and enjoyed nodding along, pretending that he understood what Kuroo was talking about when he explained whatever he had learned in school that day. He liked tea, and enjoyed salted mackerel almost as much as Kuroo, although his favourite food was cold soba.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo has inherited his hands and eyebrows. From that point on, whenever he looks down on his hands laying on his knees during a game or resting on top of the table beside whichever book he is reading, he will think about his grandfather. He will wonder about what other similarities the two of them share, wrinkles that will only come with time or ways to express yourself that come with age. But his grandfather won’t be there to see it and laugh about it with him, so maybe there is no point in wondering about it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the doctor apologizes to him and his grandmother, telling them that they did everything they could, Kuroo feels  bile rise up his throat and fill his mouth as he embraces his grandmother in the hospital hall, the lights too bright on his eyes. It was sudden, a heart attack that came out of nowhere while he was standing in the middle of the kitchen. It was luck, or extremely unfortunate, that Kuroo had swung by for lunch on a weekend. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Now there he is, barely standing, his eyes hurt from holding back the tears and his shirt is wet from his grandmother’s grief. He doesn’t know where his father is, probably at work. He doesn’t know the name of the nurse that helped them out, but he should probably find her to thank her for her help and work. He doesn’t know the number of any funerary house, but he should probably call them too. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo doesn’t know how to exist in a world where his grandfather is no longer alive, but he guesses he better start learning how. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kuroo is 20, pressing his phone against his head so harshly that the tip of his ear hurts a bit. He had called his grandmother to see how she was, and after 20 minutes of complaining about joint pain and overall neighbourhood gossip they had finally reached the big topic of the conversation: Kuroo. More specifically, how Kuroo is neglecting everything that he used to care so much about. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He barely visits her any more, always working, always studying. Some might see this as him being dedicated and a good student, but Kuroo’s grandma is quick to point out that he still doesn’t have what she considers to be a ‘good’ job, and that he has yet to assure her he is graduating with honours. Worst of all, she is quick to point out the rising similarity between his and his father’s lifestyle and priorities. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo apologizes over and over, for not doing better, not being better. Not being more present, not contributing more financially, not bringing more pride to their family. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The truth is that life in university is harder than Kuroo thought it would be. It’s not that he is bad at anything, he is just not as good as he wants. The fear of mediocrity, of disappearing in the shadows of  others, creeps around him. Still, he is not bad enough for him to give up on his dreams just yet. It just seems like maybe the host of his favourite sports show had been right when he said that the volleyball scene in Japan was quickly becoming oversaturated, with an unusual monster generation, quickly followed by inspired yet average players. Kuroo fears that he was right in the middle of those ‘average’ and useless players. Maybe Japan didn’t really have a use for him any more. Maybe it was time to leave, and look for new spaces to occupy. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo blinks and hums, waking up from his mini disassociation, realizing that his grandmother is asking him something. When he apologizes, and asks her to repeat it, she simply sighs and tells him to forget it. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Will you at least be joining me for lunch tomorrow?” Kuroo cringes, eyes closing before answering.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Sorry Baba, I can’t. I need to do some extra practising, to make sure I’m keeping up with the rest of my team, and I’m behind on some required readings for class,” He apologizes, and she sighs again, shaky breath filled with disappointment. “I’m really sorry…I’ll make it up to you next time” he starts, but she interrupts him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s okay, Tetsurou, it’s okay. I just expected better from you, that’s all.” she says, and although Kuroo has never had a dagger physically go through his chest, he is pretty sure that’s how it feels like. “Goodbye dear. Don’t forget to call me every now and then.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I call you every week, Baba”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know, I know. But it’s always good to set a reminder. Goodbye Tetsurou.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Goodbye, Baba” Kuroo hangs up, and presses the phone against his lips. One single teardrop rolls down his cheek, burning like the disappointment on his grandmother’s voice.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>That same night he emails the head of his department, asking how to apply for a fast-tracking course, to get his diploma as quickly as possible. The next week, he starts looking up how to apply to teams internationally. Los Angeles seems to be lacking new Volleyballs players, and it becomes clearer by the minute that he won’t achieve anything here. That Kuroo won’t make anyone proud, if he doesn’t leave Japan. There is this feeling of dread pooling in his stomach every time he thinks about encountering and talking to someone he knows, that has seen him during his peak in high school. He wants to run, to hide away, so no one that knows his name, age and address can see the disappointment he has become.</span>
</p><p>
  <span> Kuroo’s time in his country is over, at least for now. It’s time to say goodbye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>At 21, saying goodbye becomes a perfected art. One would think that it would make things easier, but that’s not quite true. In fact, most of the time, even when it’s his decision to end things, to say goodbye, it feels like he’s pouring scorching water over himself, like he’s being abandoned in the middle of winter without a cold, like there is something unlawfully wrong with him. Like he is the  one in the wrong, and has to leave. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When he finds himself at the airport, he is not only saying goodbye to the Kozume’s, who so kindly drove him there, but to his life in Japan and everything he ever knew. His dad is busy, working as always, but Kuroo feels like a goodbye wasn’t required. In all honesty, he thinks that if he had moved without telling him a single word, his father would probably not even notice until a few months later (but he is a kind son, and gave him the news months in advance. The time to spend with him or say a proper goodbye simply didn’t come up for his father. It’s okay, Kuroo is used to it.). His grandmother had cried some, but was overall too tired to leave her home (Kuroo didn’t know back then, but she would die  the next Christmas. Her tears and his goodbye, kissing her wrinkly hands, would be a fond memory of their last time together. A bitter reminder that, once again, he has told someone goodbye for the last time without knowing it.) </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So now there he is, standing in front of the boarding gate, surrounded by a family that is not his own by blood. Still, it would have been incredibly ungrateful of Kuroo to not recognize the Kozume’s as his family. They had loved and taken care of him whenever he needed, supporting him during his lowest and highest moments, taking the time to learn inside and out the unspoken language of a boy that was not theirs to claim. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But they had done it anyway and Kuroo is so ridiculously grateful for it. He doesn’t know who he would be without them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The first one to tell him goodbye is Mr. Kozume. He hugs Kuroo tightly, more caring than it’s usual for men from older generations. He steps back, holding Kuroo by the shoulders, and looks him deep into his eyes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Don’t worry too much, Kuro-kun,” Mr. Kozume tells him, his voice serious even though he has a smile on his face. “Just focus on always doing your best, regardless of what it is that you’re doing. It’s what you’ve always done best, and I’m sure you’ll be able to achieve all of your dreams if you keep going like this,” he says. It’s  life advice, the type fathers give their own sons. Kuroo bows his head and nods, an attempt to hide the fact that his eyes are lined with tears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I promise” he tells him, as honest as he can. Because if anything, Kuroo does mean it. He will do his best, he has to. There is no other option.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Moving abroad is a risk. As much as Kuroo tells himself that there is nothing for him in Japan, that he needs to move forward and to move away from everything he knows in order to grow, and change and achieve the dreams he has, it is undeniable that it is a huge risk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He was able to find a trustworthy agent, and he already has try-outs for teams lined up.He has enough money saved up to keep  a small apartment for himself and that takes care of all his needs, at least in the beginning. He has the basics down. But it’s still a risk. It’s still a foreign country. It’s still a different culture. It’s still stepping away from everything he knows.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s saying goodbye, once again. That, at least, is a reliable pattern that he knows how to do. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He thanks Mr. Kozume for everything that he has done for him, and the man laughs before patting him on the back.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was no problem at all. It has always been my pleasure to have you in our family,” he tells him, and Kuroo swallows dry, biting the inner part of his cheeks. Not crying is proving to be a harder test than he thought it would be.  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>At some point in the short period of time in which Kuroo refused to look up from his own shoes, trying to calm himself down and holding back the tears, Mr. Kozume has swiftly swapped places with his wife. When Kuroo finally looks up again, he finds Mrs. Kozume standing in front of him, her hands propped up on her hips before raising both of her arms, eyeing him with the same look that he has seen on Kenma’s face many times before. Kuroo had always thought that it was so fascinating to see the similarities in between the two of them, the genetic characteristics that pulled that family together. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He awkwardly bends down, like he had been doing since he outgrew her at the age of 15, and lets her put her arms around his neck.He hugs her back, as gentle as he can. Not that he needs to, he knows that she is tougher than most people he ever knew. All Kozume’s are, he has learned. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma’s mum pulls him closer, her tiny frame somehow surrounding him, even though her arms can barely close around his torso completely and her head reaches only to the middle of his chest. Kuroo supposes he sees her as bigger than he is, because of how large of a figure she is in his life. She was the closest thing to a mother he had, after his own passed away. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Just do your best, Kuro-kun,” she whispers in his ear. “Do your best and be happy. Everything will be fine.” Kuroo inhales sharply at her words. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He had also learned, a long time ago, that all Kozume’s had the innate talent of simply seeing through him, to perceive all his thoughts, fears and feelings without him needing to say a single word. They were all fluent in the language of Kuroo’s face. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo nods, stiffly against her shoulder, and lets her go, giving his best fake smile, as natural as it can reach. She squints back, and he knows it doesn’t quite work. He may have fooled Kenma’s dad (not that he actually believes that he did), but it was a given certain that it would be impossible to fool the Kozume matriarch. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He looks up again, this time trying even harder not to cry. If everything until that moment during the afternoon, all the goodbyes he had said throughout the day and the past week, had been hard, now comes the worst part. Now comes the goodbye he never quite pictured himself saying, a separation he never really thought would ever happen. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kuroo looks down again, Kenma is standing in front of him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma is good at many things, Kuroo would actually classify him as </span>
  <em>
    <span>great</span>
  </em>
  <span> at most of them, but eye contact is not one of them. Direct communication in general, through spoken words have always proven to be a wall for him. A boss he can’t quite win. And the heaviness of the emotions of the situation turns everything even harder. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But Kuroo needs Kenma to look him in the eyes. Needs to be able to tell him goodbye properly, to thank him properly. He needs Kenma to know how grateful he is for him, and his friendship, and his family, and for all the years he spent by his side, playing, listening, being himself by him and, in turn, accepting Kuroo for who he was.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>And because Kenma is a Kozume, and therefore fluent in Kuroo, he looks up to meet his eyes just a quick second before Kuroo thinks he might explode. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There are many things Kuroo wants to say. There are even more things he wants to say but can’t. He has his own secrets, that he does his best to hide even from Kenma. That he never says out loud. Instead, his looks linger for too long, and he buys apple pie, and controls the shivers that go down his spine whenever Kenma accidentally brushes his hand against his own. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He blinks, because Kenma is saying something while frowning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Uh?” Kuroo asks, blinking again “Sorry, I had a moment there. I think everything that is happening is finally catching up to me,” he spills out the excuse, scrunching his nose and biting his lip quickly. It’s a tell, but he hopes Kenma won’t look too much into it.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I told you to stop crying,” Kenma says, in the same monotonic voice he has always used. If you didn’t know him you might even think that he looked bored, but Kuroo has known him for far too long to be fooled. This is the voice he uses when he’s acting like he is bothered by something, but not really. “You’re being silly. You’re going after your dream, everything will work out, there’s no need to cry,” Kenma tells him, and it’s the closest thing to praise and support that Kuroo will get from him out loud. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Excuse me, I am leaving my country and all the people that I know, I have the right to get a little emotional. Ever heard about feelings, Kenma?” He asks, faking offence. It’s a mockery play that has been done before. It’s a fake fight repeated as often as the classic ‘do too’ ‘do not’ that is characteristic of their friendship, and of old married couples. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Gross,” Kenma tells him, rolling his eyes, but there is the tiniest hint of a smirk, just a shadow playing on Kenma’s lips, that he has to push forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh, c’mon,” Kuroo adds, having his turn on giving a dramatic eye roll  “We both know that you wouldn’t love me as much as you do if I wasn’t the emotional sap that I am,” he says in a teasing tone.Kenma can’t help himself and cracks into a laugh, pushing Kuroo on the shoulder while telling him to shut up.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Here is the thing: Kuroo is a practical person, or at least he likes to think so. He believes in science, in research, in fact based answers that can be proven by evidence. He definitely does not think that flimsy concepts such as ‘magic’ exist, is not particularly spiritual, and doesn’t really believe that there is a God or any other entity. But in that moment, watching Kenma laugh while standing in the gates of the airport, basking in pink and orange light from the sky that is quickly approaching night time through the glass panel windows, Kuroo is suddenly convinced that magic does, in fact, exist —  the proof is right there, in the corner of Kenma's smile.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The moment is interrupted by Kenma, who slowly stops laughing, until his face becomes  very serious. Not emotionless, like usual, but serious. As if he is about to leave his comfort zone, to approach something that he most definitely does not want to, but has to.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oi, Kuroo” He starts, fidgeting “We will still be friends, right?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Ah. So this is it, the thing that was disturbing him. Funnily enough, Kuroo didn’t think that what was eating him up inside could possibly be affecting Kenma as well. But it wouldn’t be Kuroo if he had allowed his best friend to worry about it a second longer. So he smiles, as bright and fake as a cheap diamond, before answering him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Of course we will Kenma,” he tells him “Nothing will change.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Lying to Kenma is never easy, and always extremely unpleasant. Kuroo hates the words the minute they leave his mouth, heavy like petroleum and bitter like rotten milk. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>When Kuroo finally begins to walk through the gate he turns back, just to give one last look.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma is staring right back at him. Years of knowing him too well, his dramatic antics, his overall difficulty to let the past go, his need for closure. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo stares into Kenma’s eyes, trying not to choke —on tears, on unspoken confessions, on missing him already before even leaving. He smiles, before speaking a bit louder, so he knows Kenma will hear him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Oi, Kenma" he starts, "don't forget about me, ok? Even when you’re busy and too famous for your childhood friend."</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kenma rolls his eyes once again, and looks down, typing something on his phone, before looking back. Of course, he wouldn’t yell in the middle of the airport for Kuroo’s sake, that isn’t his nature and Kuroo would never expect him to betray that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Kuroo’s phone buzzes, and he fishes it out of his pocket in order to read the answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It’s a simple text, not too overly complicated. Three simple words.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>I could never.</span>
  </em>
  
</p><p>
  <span>It’s so Kenma, so much that Kuroo wants to laugh, but there is this heavy weight in Kuroo’s chest that tells him this won't last. That Kenma will move forward and forget about him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But he doesn’t have time to dwell on his fears. His flight is calling, and his future is right there, at fingers’ reach. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is nothing else to be said, no big speech to hype him up, no fading background music from a movie scene. This is the final act, the part that he does best - this is goodbye. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>So Kuroo simply shakes his head, and acts. Crosses the gate. Moves forward. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It will be okay. He will be ok. And even if not, he has to be. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There is no going back now.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you so much for reading this! I hope you like it. As I said, this is part one of the series, so if you'd like to know what happens to Kuroo after moving to LA, please feel free to check that out and let me know what you think :)<br/>As usual, feedback is always more than welcome, and if you'd like to scream at me you can find me on <a href="https://twitter.com/ffskuroo">twitter</a>!!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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